


Assets and Introspection

by Vulpes_Fawkes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Complete Speculation, Internal Exposition, Introspection, Look I just want to BELIEVE, Mandalorian to Dadalorian, Me pretending Mando is not going to give the Asset to the Client, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpes_Fawkes/pseuds/Vulpes_Fawkes
Summary: Main Mando has found the Asset, but now he's gotta decide what to do with it. The internal contemplation of a man with a dubious moral code to begin with.** Contains Spoilers for The First Episode, Obviously, and Pedro Pascal name dropping the Mandalorian's identity in an interview.
Relationships: Mandad/Self Reflection, Mando & Fatherhood
Comments: 13
Kudos: 160





	Assets and Introspection

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my fiancé for beta reading it for me. All typos are mine, but I did edit this so hopefully it's not a disaster. This is intended as a one shot, or possibly a collection of one shots if I'm feeling frisky in the future, but who knows with a wedding to plan and grad school to apply for.

Den was pretty sure he had been clear when he joined the guild. _I don’t take bounties on children._

He stared into the big, expressive eyes of this thing so rare that few even knew what it was called. They were a species so little known that not even he was privy to knowing it’s name. He had heard legends of individuals of the species - most especially the Jedi Master, Yoda, from before the fall of the Jedi Order. From a time when the Mandalorians were much more prevalent in the galaxy, not scratching out an existence on a planet not their own. 

Den turned to look at the IG Unit on the floor next to him, then looked back at the fifty year old infant. Well he had certainly made his choice, and there would be hell to pay. 

He reached, and pressed a button on the cradle and caught it in his arms when the anti-gravity system shut off. The infant didn’t even make a sound, just continued to stare at him. He found this slightly unnerving. This infant was _older than he was._

He didn’t speak - as he was wont - and he walked out of the compound. He ignored the nagging feeling in the back of his head about the droid. He had broken quite a few rules today. He didn’t like droids, and this one had gotten in his way. Still, he had “killed” a fellow guild member, and while the manufacturer had clearly no problem with the droid self destructing, he had terminated an employee of the guild. 

But that begged the question - why was the droid on a bounty with the same target as him? Shouldn’t the guild master have sent out a guild wide alert? Everyone should have known he was on that bounty, and it was clear that there was some kind of conflict - the droid had been sent to kill the infant, while he had been sent to bring it back alive. But then again, it had been pretty under the table - no puck, barely a morsel of information on the bounty, very hush-hush. Clearly, the Client didn’t want people to know about this infant’s existence. 

He considered his options, debating how best to get back to the Razer. What’s done is done. He’d terminated the droid. And now he needed to figure out what to do with a baby he had been tasked with finding. 

Had Greef known about the details of the bounty? Probably not, if he had sent another guild member to collect the same bounty as him. There were rules about hunters being sent on the same bounty. The Client - he was definitely an Imperial. So what did he want with a member of a species known to be force sensitive? There were no Sith left to teach it. So maybe experiments? The secrecy bothered him. 

But then, why would an Imperial so blatantly show off their allegiance on a lawless planet where just about anyone would be happy to put a blaster bolt between his eyes and collect a bounty on someone who was clearly a high ranking official in the days of the Empire? Sure no one would be looking for him this far out here, but that presented its own problems. Those Storm Troopers definitely needed their armour repaired and cleaned - it was barely serviceable, and that scientist was clearly no help to anyone. Any enterprising bounty hunter worth their salt could take the entire room, and the fledgling New Republic was happy to take any Imps found in hiding. 

It took a little longer than he would have liked, but Den found his blurrg. The thing stank - he could smell it even through his helmet, but at least she got him where he needed to go. It took a little bit of juggling and complicated maneuvers, but he and the infant were on the blurrg before long, and Den quickly set off back to the ugnaught’s moisture farm. 

The ride took what felt like hours back to the farm, so long that the infant fell asleep, and when they finally arrived Den handed off the blurrg to the ugnaught without preamble or any statement. He didn’t want the damned thing, and he had more important things to deal with right now. Leaving with little more than a “thank you,” Den got the infant back to the Razer quickly. As he closed the hatch he considered that peace would return to this little backwater planet - though he as a principle didn’t care much for the idea of peace. It was a pipe dream this far out from the core - people were too busy killing each other for scraps. Why should they care who controlled the core planets - it wasn’t like those types would come this far out, so no one on the rim would benefit from their money or their employment.

Now that he and the infant were back in the relative safety of his ship, he could consider his options with more depth. The Imps were scum. During the occupation of Mandalore the Imperials had mined the planet for it’s beskar, and what little recovery the planet had was thrown back into disarray, as well as the constant changing of leadership had weakened the government of the planet. Mandalore had never been particularly unified - civil war and infighting had been quite common, but it was during Imperial control that the planet’s people had suffered constant fear of annihilation and subjugation from an outside force. Further, beskar was a huge part of their culture - to have it stripped away and stamped with Imperial insignia was an affront to the very sovereignty of Mandalore. 

He looked back at the baby. It was his one way ticket to getting more beskar - probably enough for a new armour set. But did he want to hand off a defenseless infant to Imperials to have who-knew-what done to it? Would the blood of a child be on his hands? 

He had done most everything else there was to do in the galaxy. Spice hadn’t really kept his interest, and he had killed and collected bounties on all kinds of people - even good people. If the credits could spend, then he was more than pleased to make his living. But he had always abided by his code - _no children._

This bounty was very nearly beyond the pale. He needed the money and beskar - it would craft his armour and also help other foundlings brought into the Mandalorian fold. Could he ignore his obligation to his clan, or would he have to violate his own moral code? 

He sat down at the pilot’s station, and began the take off sequence, still with no clear idea of where to go in mind. It’s not like there was an easy place to take the kid. He didn’t know where the homeworld of this thing was, nor who could take it besides the New Republic, which Mandalorians weren’t exactly buddy with.

Still - that left a problem: he would be turning his back on the Mandalorian way of life. He would leave his fellows - his community - out high and dry, and the necessary continuation of his clan’s culture would hang in the balance. Beskar was pretty hard to come by - getting enough for a helmet was difficult. The steel belonged to his people, not the Imperials. 

He sighed ever so slightly and sat back in his seat as the craft began to rise, then looked over his shoulder back at the cradle with the infant inside. He figured it was probably still asleep. 

Wait. What did baby… Yodlings... eat? How often did they need to be cared for in a day? If he didn’t take the infant back to the Client, that meant he needed to care for it, and if he needed to care for it then he needed to find supplies. 

He felt a mild panic rise in his throat. He had never cared for a child - let alone a baby. He was a bounty hunter - not a father. But handing over a defenseless infant wasn’t really something he could stomach, either.

**Author's Note:**

> His name is based on the name Pedro Pascal dropped in an interview recently which is Den Jarin or Din Jarrin, and I tried to do at least bare minimum research into Mandalore but I'm not exactly well versed in the Expanded Universe - I'm a lifelong Star Wars movie fan, but I've only recently been exploring the rest of the Star Wars content available. This is really just a self indulgent fic, because I want the Mandalorian to be the Most Dad to Ever Space Dad.


End file.
